Memory Blue
by Northlight
Summary: Zack thinks of Ben, faith and training.


Memory-Blue (1/1)

_ Title: Memory-Blue (1/1)  
Summary: Zack remembers Ben, training and faith.  
Rating: PG13.  
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.  
Date: April 28, 2001._

Time was something to which Zack devoted much attention. Time, he had been taught, was one of the things by which success or failure were brought about. That truth had not turned hollow and false beyond the limits of a soldier's life as had so many of Manticore's teachings. Time had remained something of vast importance-time to run, to escape Manticore. Time to move, to pull up and brush aside a life and all of the attachments which had grown despite one's best attempts to stay untouched. Counting down the seconds until the time to act. Far from time enough, sometimes. 

Zack had returned to Seattle with the greatest possible speed when he had heard of Ben's presence in that area. He arrived nowhere near soon enough. He could remember Max's face, drawn tight with pain and sorrow. Red rimmed eyes had given evidence of tears. She'd been _sorry_, Zack recalled bitterly. He had stared at her, silent, choking on his anger. Hadn't she remembered? They were family--when everyone else stood ranged against them, the remained together and strong and whole. 

There was still evidence of what had transpired under these arching branches some days earlier. There was the indent of tire tracks on the ground, Manticore come to collect her dead. More subtle clues--snapped branches as Ben's prey had fled, as he and Max had faced off in this area. Shifts of fallen leaves, branches and rocks unnoticeable to human eyes. Faint traces of blood, more memory than reality. He breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of vegetation, earth and the lingering traces of fear-tainted pain. 

"Ben, oh fuck, _Ben_," Zack addressed the memory of his brother. He closed his eyes tightly against the tears he never allowed himself to shed. "It wasn't supposed to end like this." Soldiers died, usually violently, often uselessly. He had never been able to simply accept that. His family was under his command, they were his to guide, his to protect, and their lives were intricately tied into his. Ben need not have died here. He would have taken care of him, as always. 

He could remember Ben with the sharp clarity bred into their kind. Ben's voice, mocking Zack, himself, this world they found themselves lost in: "Bless me Father, for I have sinned." He had turned away from the weapons arrayed before him, an eyebrow quirked. He had held a knife, carefully wiping the blade clean with a cloth. Ben glanced down at the knife and back up at Zack before placing the weapon back on the counter behind him. "But you already know that, don't you?" 

"I warned you, Ben," Zack said, casual posed readiness. "The barcode? The teeth?" He sighed, breath hissing through his teeth. "You're asking Manticore to come here, you realize that." 

Ben shrugged, infuriating in his lack of concern. "Let them come, then. Let them see." He smiled slightly, nearly condescending, "I'm working for a higher purpose, brother. The Blue Lady--" 

"Doesn't exist," Zack cut him off, irritated and making no attempt to conceal his emotions. "She was a myth, a childhood fantasy." He had climbed up to the roof, looked into the Lady's serene face and had prayed. There is no luck, there is no fate, there is only training and careful observation and duty, their trainers had told them. Jack's fingers had loosened from the claws they had curled into during his seizure, small body stilling, and his eyes had gone wide and wondering as he looked at the image pressed into his hand. 

"You don't really believe that," Ben said, certain that he spoke the truth. "She is real. She is with us always. She protects us so long as we remain strong and devoted to her." Ben gestured at the weapons behind him, half-turned towards them. "I am devoted." 

"You're going to get yourself killed," Zack shot back, his voice hard and sharp. 

Ben cocked his head, eyes distant. "The Lady is with me." 

"_Ben_," Zack growled warningly, taking a step forward, driven by anger. Realizing that he had moved without conscious thought, Zack stilled his forward motion. 

The other man's eyes cleared, sharp and aware. "Everyone dies, Zack. I won't, I _can't_ live a soft and easy lie, pretending to be what I am not. I can't live fighting my instincts, denying everything I am." His lips curled, a knowing smile. "I'm sure you of all people must understand that." 

Murder was something common enough to be unremarkable. Zack shrugged. "I want you to be careful, Ben. You're being obvious, and you're putting yourself at undue risk." There was a thrill in death, the satisfaction of a nameless need. They had been bred for aggression, guiltless destruction. He had learned to channel his instincts, aggression directed towards enemies and threats to his family's security. 

"I'm not going to get caught," Ben said. 

"I hope you're right," Zack answered. He shook his head, "enough. Three bodies here, Manticore's in town. We're getting out of here, now." 

"I was starting to chafe here, anyway," Ben responded easily. 

"You ever miss it?" Ben had asked once. He had flexed his hands, curling them into fists, raising them before his body in a pose they had fallen into back at Manticore time and time again until it became instinct. "Being able to act, no thoughts, no worries, no hiding--just smooth motion and freedom?" 

They had fought together, once--back to back, moving outwards with rapid flying fists and feet, turning and flipping and a burst of speed. Opponent down, he'd cast a quick glance in his brother's direction. The expression Ben had worn at that moment had imprinted itself permanently in Zack's memory. He had turned back to the fight, lashing out and remembered that this was what it meant to be truly sure of oneself. 

The first time he had met Ben after the escape, they had clasped hands, wordless recognition, emotions too deep for words. Ben had remained closest to what Zack recalled of his family before the escape. He had not lost himself to the lies and beckoning weakness of the outside world. Ben had remained a soldier, made no effort do deny what they would never stop being. And then Zack had discovered that the Blue Lady still loomed large and powerful in his brother's life. Ben was as lost and needy as the others, Zack had realized--confused by freedom, lost without boundaries and meaning. 

They had sat on the slanted roof of a two-storey house, pack of beer between them. Ben had looked up at the sky. "You ever wish we could fly?" he asked, taking another swig from his brown-tinted glass bottle. 

Zack shrugged. "We can do the next best thing to flying," he commented, thinking of being suspended high in the air, held aloft by wires and skill alone. 

"Nah," Ben countered, "really flying. Way up there," he said, pointing at the star studded sky. "They say that there's something called Heaven up there, and all the good people in the world go there when they die. The Blue Lady is up there, Zack. She's looking down on us right now." 

Zack blinked, carefully settling his empty bottle beside him. "The Blue Lady?" he echoed. "You still believe in her?" Zack asked in disbelief. 

"Of course. I've seen her, all over. She's in churches, looking just like I remember her." He looked at Zack, "don't you still believe?" 

"I haven't thought about the Blue Lady in years," Zack answered slowly. He reached out for another bottle, thumbing the cap off. He took a sip before lowering the bottle, absently twirling it in his hand. 

"That's okay, Zack. I'm sure she understands." 

"I don't put my faith in anything except myself," Zack finally said. 

Ben shook his head. "You have to believe in the Lady. You've seen her, you know what she can do." They two rarely touched casually. Ben reached out, laying a hand on Zack's shoulder. "You have to believe, Zack, and she'll take care of you." 

He could remember believing. She had been beautiful, at peace. Zack had offered her his devotion, less obvious than some, embarrassed by his baseless belief in the Lady's power. Manticore had found Ben screaming his anguish to the sky, and had pulled down their altar to the Lady. Jack, Eva, more than he cared to recall left dead or hurt. In some ways, the outside world had been more bruising than Manticore. Alone, and he had no room for faith in anything save his own skills. 

Zack brushed his fingers lightly against the ground where Ben had fallen. His head fell backwards, closed-eyed, face towards the sky. Zack let out a wavering breath before speaking. "May the Blue Lady keep you safe, Ben," he said softly. He stood, set memories and emotions aside. Soldiers died--violently, uselessly, and Ben had never stopped being a soldier. Zack turned and walked away. 

~end~ 


End file.
